


parasites abound

by valdera



Series: hxh fast food au [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: F/F, Gen, concurrent with ch 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valdera/pseuds/valdera
Summary: “Chrollo is…” Phinks starts, struggling to find the right words, “he’s special. He’s got the type of aura that draws people close. Natural charisma, I guess?” He shrugs. “We follow him because he’s the only one who could leave Meteor City.”“Why?” Kalluto asks.“What do you mean, why?”"Why was he the only one that could leave?" They're uncomfortable, asking this question. It feels all too casual for something that lurks deep beneath the surface. They're an outsider, even now, they realize, and somehow the thought brings them no sorrow, just a vaguely disturbing feeling when they think about the original members.“I don’t really know?” Phinks says. “He’s Chrollo. He’ll take you anywhere.”





	parasites abound

**Author's Note:**

> i kid you not this has been around for over 2 years i just forgot to publish it until now???? plus this is in line (and relevant) w/ the never chapters so i figure y'all would appreciate it!!

When Kalluto walks into the restaurant that day, Machi is deep in discussion with another person, face carefully neutral.

“—spike, I don’t understand, Paku, really,” is all they catch before they notice them.

“Hey,” Kalluto greets, raising their hand in a half-wave.

“Hey,” Machi answers curtly.

“So,” they ask, innocent curiosity seeping into their voice, “I take it something happened?”

And then there’s a look—so fast that they almost miss it, and the person takes in a sharp breath.

“I’m Pakunoda,” the person says, and Kalluto nods. Machi shoots her a look. “Ah,” she mumbles to herself, “right. Just use she/her. And, well, to answer your question,” she continues, “Machi’s threads have caught a surprisingly high spike of  _ Ren _ .”

_ Killua _ is the first thought that comes to Kalluto’s head, full of hope and expectations that they’d rather not be held down with.

“How many?” If Alluka is there, Nanika is probably there, as well. They— _ they _ want to apologize, in some kind of mixed and twisted way because every time they’d called her an  _ it _ now feels like they’re being hit with the weight of a thousand worlds. There’s this sick feeling in their throat, and more than Killua, they want to see Alluka and Nanika and finally set something right.

It’s the least they can do.

“Two,” Machi answers.

Kalluto tries not to get their hopes up.

_ You’re irrational _ , they think,  _ so calm down and breathe. _

But it’s so hard to ignore Killua, when Killua is so very bright, when he is everything Kalluto wants to be, and they think of the way he smiles when he talks to Alluka and they feel like something about them is very, very wrong.

_ I’m not alone _ , they remind themselves.  _ I’ve got the Phantom Troupe. _

Suddenly Pakunoda shifts, grabbing the bag that’s on the counter and hurriedly rushing her words. “Have to go,” she murmurs, waving her hands frantically. “I've been here long enough."

Machi frowns. “But you just got here,” she whispers softly, and Pakunoda hesitates.

“Sorry!” she blurts out, and Kalluto watches her bow down. “It’s just,”—her voice drops to a hush—“well, you know  _ he _ doesn’t like me being here.”

At this, Machi’s face turns cold. “Yes,” she mutters. “Of course.” Her hands reach out, and it looks like she’s about to pull Pakunoda into a hug, they just fall to her sides and Kalluto is left with a sense that something is decidedly missing.

“No connections,” Pakunoda bites out, and with that, her shoes click past Kalluto, and she is gone before Machi can say goodbye.

They look at Machi, now; they watch her eyes linger on the closing door, watch her open her mouth and then close it, and then watch her turn away and head for the break room, stomping hard on the floor.

They want to follow her, but they just sit on the counter and dangle their feet mindlessly, worry settling in their stomach. They’re not very good at this.

Phinks bursts in then, eyes wild and feet hopping in little steps, momentum moving him forward, and he gasps, “ _ Pakunoda! _ ” with an urgency that Kalluto has never heard before.

“We saw her,” they answer coolly, hands folded neatly on their lap, not a hair out of place. They tilt their head and smile half-heartedly.

Phinks stops to catch his breath, and looks around the restaurant. “Where’s Machi?”

As if on cue, Machi stomps out of the break room, spitting out, “I’m right  _ here _ ,” with such viciousness that Phinks steps backwards.

“What’d she say this time?” he asks, and Kalluto can hear the concern masked by exasperation.

“Oh, you know,” Machi says, waving her hands around wildly. “The usual, Chrollo not wanting us to socialize, the fact that we should only gather when we’ve got something to steal,  _ that stuff _ .” Her voice is harsh and scalding, so full of venomous intent that it makes the both of them flinch.

Wisely, Kalluto refrains from pointing out the trips the Phantom Troupe has made to Meteor City, because that’s exactly what Machi’s getting at, and that’s exactly why they shut their mouth.  _ But really _ , they think ruefully,  _ if most of your members come from the same place, then it’s sort of inevitable _ . Not to mention Chrollo himself is from Meteor City.

"I'm leaving," Machi announces loudly, resting her chin on the knuckles of her hand, and then she smiles bitterly. The door shuts before either of them can say anything.

"So," Phinks says, breaking the resulting silence. "How've you been?"

But Kalluto is still thinking, because something feels wrong about Machi and Pakunoda, and they’re so close to putting their finger on it.

“What about the first rule?” they ask, choosing their words carefully.

_ The existence of the gang is more important than the life of the leader. _

Phinks looks surprised at first, but then realizes what they're talking about. “I…don’t know?” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. “You’d think us sticking together would be a good thing.”

Kalluto thinks  _ Killua _ , again and again, because  _ Killua _ is ever-present and a thought they’ll never get out of their head, thinks  _ Zoldyck _ because everything they think about  _ Killua _ is inadvertently tied to  _ Zoldyck _ , and it dawns on them.  

“Friendship,” they mutter, “is weakness,” and then everything feels sick and wrong all at once, because now the blood on their hands means something, because now everything feel like a lie. They’re not Killua, not strong enough to stand up to them, but here, feeling for the first time relaxed and happy and content, they realize that everything that makes up them is sick and twisted beyond their control.

_ No matter how much you change, you’ll always be a Zoldyck. _

Phinks looks at them with a strange expression. "I guess so." He walks over to them and ruffles their hair. "Don't dwell on it too much, alright?"

It fills them with warmth, but at the same time, they want to cry their heart out.

"Alright," Kalluto responds calmly.

They’re awful.

They look around them and there the Phantom Troupe is, a gang full of thieves and murderers, people who don’t think twice about killing, and then Kalluto feels hopelessly alone, because everything is better but it is so much worse.  _ We are a team _ , they think.  _ I cannot escape you. _

Perhaps they are all just destined to be this way. For all his thoughts, Kalluto's never tried to run away from this. And they love being a part of the Troupe, for all its morally questionable activities.

At least they've got this.

And then the thought of Killua and then Alluka—free and full of laughter and life—strikes through them, and everything boils over and floods and they feel like everything is slipping, so Kalluto swallows everything down until they can pretend that they are blind to the world.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve never told me much about Meteor City,” Kalluto states, as Phinks scrubs the floor with enough rage and animosity to satisfy the entire stock market.

Phinks stops where he is and sighs. “What’s there to say?”

“I’d like to know how you became the Phantom Troupe. Tell me that?” Kalluto suggests.  _ I’m a part of it too _ , they silently add.  _ I’ve been a part of it from the first time I came here _ .

“Chrollo came to us,” Phinks mutters, staring at the floor. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

Silence.

“You don’t know what Meteor City is, do you?” asks Phinks, tone oddly pained.

“I know the basics. It’s a city that doesn’t exist, right? Where everyone isn’t legally alive?”

“By law, we and the city don’t exist,” Phinks concedes. “But it’s also the kindest place I’ve ever been. It’s,”—he blinks furiously and then swallows—“it’s  _ home _ .”

There’s that feeling of emptiness again, stuck deep in Kalluto’s throat, and they lower their eyes respectfully. Even now, a part of them wants to go back. Because Kikyo is their mother and she loves them, and maybe she wants to see them again. They miss her, as much as Killua hates her, because Kikyo has taught them everything. She’s the one who gave them their first kimono. She’s the only one who notices them.

Killua doesn’t see them.  _ The only thing in Killua’s vision _ , Kalluto thinks bitterly,  _ is Alluka. And even if he looks at any other Zoldyck, he won’t dare look at me. _

They look at Phinks in the eyes and the chunk in their throat swells up and their head feels like it’s been hit with a testing gate.

They almost  _ want _ to be hit in the head with a testing gate.

Because they’re  _ homesick _ . They’re awfully homesick and hurt and they’re absolutely lost.

“Kalluto?” Phinks looks at them with pity in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” they snap. “I’m  _ fine _ .” They’re perfect because they endure and they know how the world works.

“You’re just fourteen, you know,” Phinks tells them softly. “It’s okay if you’re crying.” He moves to wipe their tears, and Kalluto turns their head, rubbing their eyes fiercely.

“So what?” they ask rudely. “Tell me more about Meteor City.”

“Living in Meteor City is kind of a miracle,” Phinks says after a pause, and he hops over the counter, getting a broom from the closet. His voice floats from the back. “We’re unwanted, and yet, those unwanted people find us as children, close to death, and they raise us.” Phinks returns and starts sweeping the floor, twirling on his feet. “I don’t think most people here would do that.”

“They wouldn’t,” Kalluto agrees quietly, thinking of Alluka locked up underneath. They almost feel slightly claustrophobic, but breathe in the air around them and steady themselves.

Phinks notices, and halts. “You okay, buddy?”

Kalluto nods. “Keep going.”

“Chrollo is…” Phinks starts, struggling to find the right words, “he’s special. He’s got the type of aura that draws people close. Natural charisma, I guess?” He shrugs. “We follow him because he’s the only one who could leave Meteor City.”

“Why?” Kalluto asks.

“What do you mean, why?”

"Why was he the only one that could leave?" They're uncomfortable, asking this question. It feels all too casual for something that lurks deep beneath the surface. They're an outsider, even now, they realize, and somehow the thought brings them no sorrow, just a vaguely disturbing feeling when they think about the original members.

“I don’t really know?” Phinks says. “He’s Chrollo. He’ll take you anywhere.”

_ Anywhere, I would follow you anywhere _ , Kalluto realizes, that’s the thought behind all of this, that overwhelming power that brings the Phantom Troupe together. It’s horrifying, because it is too close to the way they feel about Killua—and most everything they feel about Killua is toxic. They want to find him and they want to run away because they’d like to be themselves for once.

_ I’ll stop you _ , they think.

But they think of the way that they chase after Killua and the way that Pakunoda seems to follow Chrollo’s every order and they wonder if they really can do that.

Kalluto's kind of scared of Chrollo.

Perhaps it's just because he’s the one person that's escaped from both Silva and Zeno—and that thought does terrify them, down to their very core, but no, it's got to be something more, something more, like...

They look at Phinks—look at the wonder in his eyes and look at his soft smile as he recalls Meteor City and watches those flashes of this deep, deep, thing that must be devotion, and then they think of Machi and Pakunoda. Machi, who begins to look more tortured every second she stays here, and Pakunoda, the quiet defeat on her face and overwhelming hesitancy and confusion that comes from both of them.

Kalluto can lose them.

Kalluto  _ is _ losing them.

And, well, they're not sure of it yet, but the dark and bitter feeling in their chest tells them it's Chrollo.

_ Follow your heart _ , Machi had told them, and now they think about the way her face twisted, full of something Kalluto identifies as regret.  _ I've followed my heart _ , they think,  _ but have you followed yours? _

_ Or has Chrollo stolen it all away? _

They let out a sigh.

“You’d follow Chrollo anywhere, wouldn’t you?” they ask Phinks.

“Yeah,” he says casually. “We’re the Phantom Troupe.”

_ You’re Meteor City. _

_ You’re Chrollo. _

“Hey,” they begin, “Can you cover the rest of my shift?”

“Sure,” Phinks agrees, and then adds, “Going somewhere?”

“Machi’s.”

“You know where she lives?” He’s surprised, Kalluto notes. This is the disparity between them. This is the stake that they’ve been driving down, the rift that’s widening beneath them.

_ Right? _

_ There are no questions. Just you. _

“Of course,” they reply smoothly. “Where do you think I live?”

__

* * *

 

 

There are two people inside the apartment, Kalluto notices.

They enter quietly, not particularly worried about Machi, but rather because they don’t want to be seen. They’d already heard one conversation they weren’t exactly meant to hear; they’re not sure Machi would even let them hear two.

The door to their apartment floor is slightly ajar, and Kalluto stops right in front of it, listening to the conversation on the other side.

“Nobunaga.” Machi’s voice is flat, guarded.

At least that means there’s a higher chance she won’t notice them.

“Machi.” There’s a silence that goes on for so long that Kalluto wants to rip their hair out with the way the tension in the air is palpable.

“He’ll be back.” Her voice floats around the room, light, airy, and careless.

All the things Machi is not.

“But he’s not.” Nobunaga sighs. “I miss him, okay? It’s been at least five months since I’ve seen him last, and…”

“You don’t have to pine for him like some useless idiot,” Machi snaps. “The Phantom Troupe splits up a lot of times. We’re rarely all together.”

_ She’s trying not to cry _ , Kalluto realizes when their own tears start pricking up at the corners.

“Uvo and I are a team,” Nobunaga insists. “We always, always, always work better together, and Chrollo knows that.”

“So?” Machi demands.

“Maybe I  _ miss _ him, Machi, okay!” Nobunaga cries out. “Maybe I  _ am _ a useless idiot and  _ am _ pining after him because we’re a  _ team _ and I want to see him again!”

“Stop being weak,” she announces haughtily. “It’s useless.”

“Like you don’t get like that whenever Pakunoda visits?” he accuses, voice low and scathing.

“I don’t!”

“Then why the hell are you so defensive?”

“I’m not!” Machi screams. “Shut it!”

“I’m going after him!” Nobunaga shouts.

And then there’s a crack ( _ it rips them apart _ ), large and shuddering ringing through the air, and Kalluto hates it.

They hate this.

_ We’re the Phantom Troupe _ , they beg them, sliding down against the wall and burying their face in their hands, rubbing at their tears.  _ Please don’t fight. _

“You can’t!” Machi screams.

_ Don’t leave me. _

Kalluto cries.

“I don’t want to see him dead!”

Nobunaga’s voice stops everything, and there’s a long silence until it feels like they’re being crushed by the very air.

“Are you really leaving?” asks Machi, voice small.

There’s a sigh. “I want to. I need to see him. He’s all alone out there, and I miss fighting with him.”

“Do I really get that hung up over Pakunoda?” She sounds broken, defeated, and Kalluto shivers.

“Yeah, you do.” There’s a quick pause and then—“I don’t know why she does that to you.”

“Neither do I,” Machi murmurs, and then adds hesitantly, “I’m not sure what about it bothers me so much, you know? I, I get so angry at her sometimes, but she’s only following orders, and then I get so bitter because of that, but I never visit her.”

She takes in a deep breath. “Actually, Pakunoda’s the only one who ever visits. None of us bother.”

“I don’t think we care,” Nobunaga says, and it’s like they’ve quietly accepted their demise.

“You’re thinking about Uvo, right?” she asks, voice level.

“Yeah,” Nobunaga admits. “I’m always thinking about him.”

Suddenly Machi laughs, high and bright and tinged with hysteria. “I don’t really know you, do I? Just get out before I explode.”

_ Don’t leave _ , Kalluto thinks,  _ don’t do this to her. _

“No, I really don’t,” Nobunaga mumbles, and then there’s just silence.

“Is this goodbye, then?” Machi asks, choking through—

They have the very strange and horrible feeling that Machi is  _ crying _ .

“I guess it’s an end of sorts,” Nobunaga says with finality.

“Goodbye, Nobunaga,” she whispers.

Either he doesn’t hear, or he ignores her, because there’s only the sound of his footsteps and the barely noticeable hiccups coming from Machi.

Kalluto’s eyes are dry, at least. But they’re screaming; it hurts and the world is on fire and they’re not really the Phantom Troupe because what are they if they’re like this.

They place a finger to their lips as Nobunaga pauses by the door, and stands up, straightening out their kimono and walking off, watching Nobunaga intently.

Nobunaga pauses, looks at them.

“Goodbye,” he calls out, just loud enough to be heard, and then he dashes forward, door slamming shut behind him.

Kalluto sighs. They give one glance at the entrance to their room in the apartment, and then slowly climb the stairs, making their way to roof.

They know when they’re not wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s an unspoken agreement of silence when Kalluto first opens the door, when Machi first looks at them with a strange, strange expression and they can feel the lingering tension from before.

“You’re here early,” she states, and goes right back to stitching.

“Phinks is covering for me,” Kalluto says in what they hope is a soothing tone. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Here I am,” Machi says, but her voice has no spark to it. She looks like she’s been beaten down.

“Here you are.”

They move closer to her, standing right by her in silence, and the two of them stay just like that, steady and calm. They can hear Machi’s breaths from this distance, long and level, as she tries to keep composure. They want to reach over and talk to her for once, touch her hand, tell her  _ it’s okay _ , but she’d hate that.

“I’d better go,” Machi says abruptly. She moves the piece of cloth she’d been sewing—something like a light, airy scarf—and gets up, making her way to the door.

“Stay safe,” Kalluto calls out,  _ but no, that’s not quite right _ , they think.

Machi nods and shuts the door.

_ Oh _ , they realize. _ I forgot to say goodbye. _

There’s a chasm that runs through the room, all jagged lines and sharp edges, and the void that opens is dark and endless. Kalluto suddenly understands that they are much, much farther away than they’d believed.

They think of Machi and Nobunaga again and wonder if they’re just the same.

When they turn away from the door, their steps feel shaky, so they busy themselves in routine.  _ It’s okay if I’m mindless _ , Kalluto tells themselves, and they sigh, as the weight settles down in their body. They don’t want to move, and so the settle into the couch. As they close their eyes, the doorbell rings.

_ Too fast _ , Kalluto thinks,  _ too slow. _

“Hey,” they call out. They ponder for a second if they should ask about Bonolenov, but they don’t know him that well, and they leave it be.

_ (the chasm grows wider). _

“Hey.” Machi’s voice is soft.

They breathe in and out. “Want to go up to the roof?”

Kalluto is tired. The air is heavy around them, and so they stand up with a half-smile. Here is too quiet and full of anger and despair and they know she’d just like to get away for once.

“Come on,” they murmur, and they float out the door, climbing the staris with the sort of quiet grace that Kikyo has taught them. Their steps feel lighter than usual.

Machi is at their side, and they make their way to the top opening the door with a sort of finality as the air rushes over them. Kalluto inhales deeply, cold air hitting his mouth, and they lay down on the ground, looking up at the sky.

Machi sits next to them, hugging her knees. “Beautiful,” she whispers.

“Yeah.” The night is dark blue and endless as the wind whistles past them both, and it settles Kalluto’s nerves. “Why were you at McDonald’s this morning?” they ask.

“I was talking to Paku,” Machi responds. She betrays nothing in her voice, but she leans on them slightly.

The both of them are just a little tired today.

“It didn’t seem much like talking,” Kalluto admits.

“Yeah, well, I called her to discuss that thing, so…”

“You called her?”

“Yeah. How else did you think we met up?”

“You know,” Kalluto starts hesitantly, “Calling her doesn’t really sound like ‘no communication.’”

Machi sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And she came just like that,” they point out. “She cares, you know that?”

Another sigh. “I know.”

Machi turns to them sharply. “You listened in, didn’t you?”

Kalluto shrugs. “I was worried.”

“You don’t need to worry,” she says, and the lies fly off her lips like silk. “You’re only fourteen.”

“Yes,” Kalluto agrees quietly. “I’m fourteen.”

“Then you don’t need to worry, okay? It wasn’t important.”

“But,” they continue, a hard edge in their voice, “I  _ am _ your friend.”

Machi turns silent.

They both look up at the stars.

“Thanks, Kalluto,” Machi whispers.

They think of the way she is strong and proud and defiant and they think about looking up at the stars like this, full of wonder and excitement and they desperately crave that feeling. They have so much—so much—to thank her for, and they want to thank everyone because they’re not sure they could’ve done this alone.

“We’re friends,” Kalluto says, grinning slightly. “We help each other out. I don’t need a thank you.”

Machi grins. “Whatever you say.”

After a pause, Kalluto adds, “You and Nobunaga are good friends.”

“If you were listening, why the heck would you believe that?” Machi asks with a sad laugh. “Look at you?” she cries out. “You didn’t even know Paku.”

“We’re the Phantom Troupe,” Kalluto states, and finally gets it right. They don’t want to leave—they just want to  _ change _ . “We’re a team.”

Her eyes light up with determination. “Yeah,” she says excitedly, “Yeah, we are.”

Something bright glows in their chest.

“Hey, Machi?” they ask.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s get our team back.”

She grins wider. “Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was considering putting this in the actual story, but i don't write kalluto pov enough for it to be in the actual one, hence the relegation to side story. in the main story, leorio, kurapika, gon, killua, & alluka all get pov chapters, with one exception in ch 15. it's just,,, kalluto is so far removed from the main stuff for such a long time that i wanted to put them elsewhere.  
> i hope u enjoyed this side story!!


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